A Quiet Evening at Home
by jyuanka
Summary: Kurapika just wants to sleep, preferably beside Leorio. He would never ask for it, but it happens anyway. Fluff without Plot, cuddles, intimacy.


A Quite Evening at Home

Kurapika sighs.

It comes from his very depths, from a void slowly closing within him. He takes a deep breath, and snuggles closer, Leorio's arm wrapping around him, strong but not heavy, protective but not intrusive, loving but not possessive. Burying his head in the other's collarbone, Kurapika places a small kiss on the juncture between Leorio's neck and shoulder, and Leorio pulls him even closer.

They are silent. They have been silent from the moment Kurapika had entered the apartment, sweating from the ugly heat outside, his clothes too tight and too scratchy, his hair disheveled and his throat dry. As he took off his shoes, Leorio brought him a cold glass of water, and he ended up drinking three glasses.

Leorio's apartment was small and cozy, and smelled just like its owner, his unique cologne and his warmth, and Kurapika just wanted to throw himself onto that mattress beside the wall and bask in this comfort before he had to get up once again to do a job he loathed.

His friend seemed to be thinking the exact same thing, as he lead him to the mattress and sat on it, beckoning Kurapika with a warm smile to rest his head on Leorio's thigh. Maybe another day Kurapika would have refused and politely requested for his friend to scoot away and give him space, but at that moment, he found himself too tired and drowning in such a desire for intimacy that he agreed.

He was truly grateful for Leorio's wordless offer, because if it was left to him, he would never have asked for it.

As he flopped down with little grace onto the mattress, his head found its place, and he closed his eyes in relief. Leorio's cotton pajamas and t-shirt were soft and smelled nice, so he buried his nose and forehead in Leorio's stomach, while the other continued reading from his textbook.

It didn't take long for him to fall asleep.

And once he woke up, he didn't know how things had progressed the way they did.

He woke up some time after, his body begging him to take his long-sleeved shirt off, so he did just that, barely conscious while pulling it over his head. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Leorio had dozed off as well, his head tilted uncomfortably to the side, the textbook held limply in his lap, his thumb preventing it from being fully shut. Kurapika removed it carefully, making sure to mark the page where Leorio left off, and he eased the other into lying beside him. Leorio's eyes fluttered open for a few seconds before closing again, and the two of them just lay there, their faces close enough to share air, the tips of their noses bumping, breathing synchronized, in tandem.

He didn't know when he slipped an arm around Leorio's back, or when Leorio's leg twined around his, or when he rested his head on Leorio's sprawled arm, or when Leorio's other arm draped over his shoulders and pulled him closer.

He didn't know.

The only thing Kurapika was sure of after a while was that Leorio wasn't quite asleep, and that Leorio himself knew that Kurapika wasn't asleep either, and despite this, Kurapika still held the taller man, imagining his face behind closed eyelids, washed in the warm sunset colors filtered throw the pink window drapes.

Yet it was quite odd, he thought. Such moments were supposed to make you nervous, but his heart was as calm as a stone in a creek, so was Leorio's. Both of them were comfortable and content. Kurapika tuned his senses to Leorio's aura; it was like a spring breeze, playful and steady and serene, yet underneath it all, held the promise of a volatile wind, fierce and vigorous.

Leorio was wonderful.

His head was filled with every facet of that thought as he realized he and Leorio were practically glued. He was tempted to open his eyes, to see where his head was exactly, to steal a glimpse of this protective vessel engulfing him like a flower studded arch.

When he did open them, his vision will filled with the dimmed gray of Leorio's t-shit, and when he gazed up, brown eyes were looking back at him.

Leorio smiled, drowsy and lazy, bursting with affection. Kurapika's heart sank, like a rock being dropped off a cliff. People smile all the time. Many people give him genuine smiles, but this here was different. He would contemplate the nuances of this later, but for now, he knew it was different because it was Leorio and no one else.

They stared at each other, Leorio's smile waning without losing any of its loveliness. They clumsed around until they found a more comfortable position, where they can be close while still able to stare at one another.

How could a simple thing as cuddling feel so good? Kurapika remembers _vividly, with biting grief and regret_ the last time he was held by someone. It was his mother, right before he left the village, and Kurapika was eager to slip from her grip. She was embarrassing him in front of the entire tribe. It was inappropriate and unbefitting, but his mother, much like Leorio, gave little heed for what people thought of her personal ways of showing affection.

Kurapika wishes he hadn't let go of her, all huffs and red ears.

He wishes he hugged her back, just as strongly as she had hugged him.

He wishes their embrace extended a bit longer.

A large hand on his head jolted him, and he was startled when Leorio leaned closer and kissed his forehead, then splayed his long fingers in Kurapika's hair, tugging it, drawing irregular circles and letters, massaging his skull with gentle, firm movements, his palm tenderly grazing Kurapika's forehead.

Was he using Nen? This wasn't simple rubbing, Leorio's finger tips were probably infused with Nen, and he was sending small, keen waves of it into Kurapika's skull.

His head felt lighter, his eyelids drooped.

That was cheating, but Kurapika didn't mind. It was doing wonders to his stuffed brain.

It was doing wonders to his heart.


End file.
